Muldoon makes a close inspection of what everyone is wearing, assessing whether or not it will be appropriate for a 24-48 hour period of exposure in Alaska this time of year.

Their apparel is sufficient for 24-48 hours of outdoors exposure, but that is provided there are no storms, no one falls in the water/ice, or there are no environmental incidences worse than an average pleasure hike

"A Seiberton. I'll be d**ned, another useful (and here Brian gives a pointed look at Blue's horns) member of our group," Brian said. "So, Jacobim, what sort of weapons are we talking here? Like, personal weapons on the scale of assault rifles, or the big boys that make large, pretty explosions? Did the PMC go down the path of the old, what do ya call 'em, Nazis! Did they experiment with Zero-Point Energy?"

Weapons! Thought Brian to himself. If he could get his hands on such a thing, it could revolutionize the criminal world. Brian could make some serious money. But no- from ol' Jacobim's little "pep talk," they were the "heroes." And as such, Brian couldn't be a "villain." Brian smiled to himself. Let's see how things go. And get my hands on those plans. Just in case. For bribe material (if the PRC military got their hands on some of Brian's favorites among the group- naturally taking out the gene-whore mutant from Brian's favorite list), and of course, for late-night reading material.

"Our intel is limited, but there is a very good chance that this facility was a principle center for arcanotech weapons. Keep in mind these are the same lunatics who created the blitzhammer and copied the Federation hyperedge blades. What can find, well who knows. Part of the contract is you can have what you can carry. The mission isn't about stealing samples." He looks at Bolles, "Our primary objective is retrieving a copy of their data core"

"where is the target ground located? Do we have preferred mode of approach? What is our preferred timeline?"

"The ground target is the 1700 meter tall Inuksuk arco. If you stand on the roof of the light house you can see it from here," Prewett says. "Mode of approach is limited, nothing is getting near the arco in an aircraft. The lock down has activated the active air defense system. That leaves us with going by land or by water. So, snow mobiles, or a snow cat, or a boat. Foot is possible, but we need to be there as soon as possible. The Alaskan army is likely going to be on the move too."

"I have a small boat, the use of which for this mission can easily be added to my expense listings. It would not be able to carry a back a great deal of cargo, and all four of us. Do we have a map of the area?"

Also Muldoon opens his PAN up again and checks the weather forecast for the next week.

Blue sipped on the tea, occassionally licking or sucking on the provided lemon halves."Why don't we get a bigger boat, then? This is Anchorage, buying or stealing something larger shouldn't be a problem."

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

"I have a small boat, the use of which for this mission can easily be added to my expense listings. It would not be able to carry a back a great deal of cargo, and all four of us. Do we have a map of the area?"

Also Muldoon opens his PAN up again and checks the weather forecast for the next week.

Weather for the next three days is clear, but there is a long range forecast plotting storms for the three days after that. Temperatures are expected to plummet, and conditions are expected to worsen into blizzard warnings

"We will also need to better prepare each you for your extended stay in sub-zero environment. I can make the necessary purchases with regard to supplies and cold weather gear immediately. Do any of you have dietary restrictions and are we expecting any additional pack...party members. If so what are their physical specifications?"

Muldoon gestures at the blue bag on the table."Also there are biomonitors in the blue bag on the table. They will monitor your vitals and produce a particulate that I will be track and respond to. If your vitals signs stop or fluctuate significantly I will be able to smell it. It will also help me track you if you get lost. Do not worry about the EM signature they produce it is no greater than if you were to rub your feet vigorously on a carpet. With your permission, I would like to begin acquiring the afore mentioned goods and I have charted a course towards the target range." *forwards the course this to every* "It will keep us close to the shore, the action of the waves should lessen any disturbance our boat engine may make to the environment."

Muldoon spreads his wings slightly and turns on his heat sinks. It is warm in here.

"Well then, feel free to get us some sub-zero garb, then. My color doesn't mean I'm cold-resistant."Then, Blue grabbed one of the provided bio-monitors, prodding it to see what functions it had."Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" the neo-ethnic murmured, then turned back to Muldoon.

"While we wait for our fourth man, why don't you share some good Seibertronian jokes?"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Without changing the tone in his melodic artificial and nonthreatening voice Muldoon replies

"A denovoneuroligist decides to put his latest bot brain into a robot and take it hunting. He explains to the bot "We are hunting doves with rifles, you need to balance speed with aim" He brags to his human friends that his bot will be faster and have a better aim than any human hunter. As soon as the hunting party walks into the field a flight of doves takes off the. Seibertronian grabs a rifle, takes aim and pulls the trigger. The denovneurologist screams 'Wait you have to load the rifle first.' The Seibertronian replies 'Unacceptable, by the time I load the rifle the birds will be out of range.' "

I know other jokes mocking Seibertronian logic if you are so interested, but my first priority is of course getting us to the hunting range ahead of the weather."

"We will also need to better prepare each you for your extended stay in sub-zero environment. I can make the necessary purchases with regard to supplies and cold weather gear immediately. Do any of you have dietary restrictions and are we expecting any additional pack...party members. If so what are their physical specifications?"

Muldoon gestures at the blue bag on the table."Also there are biomonitors in the blue bag on the table. They will monitor your vitals and produce a particulate that I will be track and respond to. If your vitals signs stop or fluctuate significantly I will be able to smell it. It will also help me track you if you get lost. Do not worry about the EM signature they produce it is no greater than if you were to rub your feet vigorously on a carpet. With your permission, I would like to begin acquiring the afore mentioned goods and I have charted a course towards the target range." *forwards the course this to every* "It will keep us close to the shore, the action of the waves should lessen any disturbance our boat engine may make to the environment."

Muldoon spreads his wings slightly and turns on his heat sinks. It is warm in here.

Brian grabbed one of the biomoniters after the cursed neo-ethnic took his. He turned it over and examined it, noting the electronics, and pondering possible modifications he could add to his. If he was going to have a biomoniter, it was going to be a pimped-out biomoniter. Maybe add some flashing red highlights? That can, naturally, be turned off when they reach wilderness or other situations that require it to be off. And not harm the other, necasary, keeping-Brian-alive stuff. That was important. And maybe he could tinker with that mutant's biomoniter, and have it play a prank on him... Non-lethal, of course. Brian was always pro-survival, and anyone willing to aid him in that quest, even mutants, gained a gold star in his book. But mutants, naturally, got enough negative stars to take 'em back down to zero.

Brian put up his feet and relaxed. Food on the table, a roof over his head, and waiting for the next party member. A street samurai. He'd probably be good for keeping weaponry from hurting Brian. Life was good. And Seibertons usually knew what they were doing. Probably a side effect of having electronics for a brain (well, naturally, discounting replacement brains from this whole line of reasoning). Life was good.

He let the sway of the conversation pass him by, though he did keep his ears open for certain key-words, words that were important to either the mission, Brian's survival, or an interesting topic.

Compulsively, Blue eyeballed picture frames, and now and then gave one a light mind-shove and tilted it slightly.It was a way to keep control of the surroundings.Still no sight of the samurai. But then, with those boosted reflexes, he could storm in any second.

"So. Do we have any more intel about the site? Possible entrances, human and automated security, power supply, comm access?"Blue hummed, then proceeded. Another frame was askew."What about the leadership? Any tasty secrets we can exploit - provided they're still alive?"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

João Matos checked his pad again. It was as hopeless as before: no jobs that would meet the criteria. Sure, there were some that paid plenty, but he could not reconcile them with his do: dishonorable employers, unworthy targets, unsavory purposes. The ones he could reconcile to his path did not pay. He wondered if the ancient rōnin had this same problem.

A pair of small feet pattered into the room. The boy bowed. "Sensei," he said, not rising until his master would acknowledge him.

Matos stood. "Hai," he nodded to Gustavo. Even at only ten, he had learned proper manners better than most young favelados who studied at the dojo.

When Gustavo rose, Matos saw the fear in his eyes. Fear was something he had yet to master at so young an age, even if the rough life of the streets demanded it. "A man is here," he said, his voice barely steady. "He says it is for the rent."

A black eyebrow rose on João's face. "Show me him."

João followed his student out from the back room of the McDojo and through the main training hall. A few students hung around, though it was late in the day for them to be there. A few practiced their Capoeira ginga, others loitered apparently in need of shelter before the night fell. Matos didn't like the younger students especially to make it a habit, lest they attract too much unwanted attention and be accused of some unsavory trade, but he'd been lenient on it in the past and now hardly seemed like the time to drive them out.

Gustavo led him out the door, into the darkening alleyway the dojo occupied. Novo São Paolo glittered above, the setting sun making the acros look like glorious golden castles above the languishing filth of the favela. The traffic was light in the alleyway this time of day, most heading back for the shelter of their homes or enclaves before the worst of the gangs took to the streets. Gustavo pointed to an unusually well-dressed man leaning against a wall opposite his doorway. Matos nodded. So it was him. "You may go, Gustavo," he said evenly. The boy barely bowed before he bolted down the packed earth street.

As João, the other man looked up and smiled from beneath a colorful cap. "Obutsu," he greeted in Nipponese. "It has been a long time."

"Long enough," he answered back in the same tongue. "Why are you here?"

The middle-aged Nipponese man sniggered. "Oho, such quick words. Would you be done with an old benefactor so quickly?"

Matos waved a shining jet-black arm. "We have been long done. Two years done, Senpai."

The smile disappeared. "Yes, two years indeed. Two years that you have not yet paid back your debt!" He spat in the ground. "You have earned your name well, Obutsu, living among filth and acting the part!"

João crossed his metal arms across his chest, their roughly humanoid form obviously artificial even beneath his tattered gi. "I considered our contract done the day Ken-sama was arrested and your branch here fell. I fulfilled all that could be done."

"Not all," the Nipponese corrected with a wag of his finger. "A true bushi would have gone to the death. You still owe Tsurogi corporation that."

Matos snorted. "Shall I die now for you, Takeda-san? I do not suppose that would pay your debts." He nodded, the stiff queue his course black hair was tied in bobbing. "That is your only real concern, is it not?"

Takeda shrugged. "We must all pay our debts. And since yours is left unpaid and, as you say, your death would be sadly unprofitable, I come to collect otherwise."

"By what measure?"

"Your training was incredibly expensive," he noted, producing a pad from somewhere and running through a spreadsheet. He set it to project the numbers for Matos to see. "Not to mention all these expensive enhancements! Your arms, the power supply, subdermal armor... Very expensive, Obutsu." He highlighted a total, a sum enough to buy most of the favela as chattel.

Takeda sneered. "It is not!" He punched a few more commands in and a copy of the contract appeared. "Section VI, Paragraph 3, third clause," he declared, the pad obediently highlighting the section. "'Services shall be rendered to Tsurogi Industries and its Subsidiaries, Officers, and Executors until the Company absolves the contract, or after the act of death.' The wording is clear, Senhor Matos. You broke contract, and you owe me."

"There is no Tsurogi Industries in these states!" Matos finally exploded, cutting a swift arm across to the hum of servomotors. "The law is on my side, Takeda!"

"But not honor! Not your code!" His face was red hot for a few silent moments, then he shook his head sadly. "Appeals to law, then," he said, shutting off the pad. "How sad." He turned as though to walk away. "If that is your way, then it shall be. I can appeal to the laws." He stopped and looked behind him to see Matos' reaction. There was none, but he spoke one. "Your authorities still seek out zaibatsu men. In fact, they offer a healthy bounty on any who dodged the 'zaibatsu busts'. This contract seems a solid piece of evidence, does it not? I suppose if you will not pay your debts, your government can do it for me." He shrugged and began to walk off.

Several moments passed. "Wait."

Takeda smiled.

* * *

João checked the message once more before sending it.

"Mr. Johnson:

My plans have changed. If the offer still stands for the Anchorage job, I will fill the position you requested.

I am due to arrive in Juneau tomorrow. I have chartered a boat from there to Anchorage. If I do not meet you at the docks, I will seek you out.

Regards,João Matos"

It was curt, more than he might give another potential employer. But he had no real inkling of Johnson's motives, and little patience. He hit send.

João picked up his cheap carry sack, which carried his few necessities, and checked his weapons. They were licensed, and a well-placed bribe would easily slip them past any securit measures. Kumorigachi, strapped safely to his hip, would raise more eyebrows than the firearms but Matos doubted anyone would have the spirit to try and remove his sword.

He walked out of the back room of the McDojo and through the main hall, where one of his renshi was leading a kata demonstration. He nodded and waited as the assistant gave an order before jogging over to Matos. "Hai, Sensei?"

"I am leaving now, Isaura," he said plainly. "I entrust the dojo to you. Have you any questions for me before I go?"

The dark-haired young woman shook her head. "No, sensei, I understand all the orders. I wish you fortune on your journey." They exchanged bows and Matos moved to leave. "When do you think you'll come back?" she called out.

He paused in the doorway. "Soon, I hope," he said honestly. He walked out into the alleyway.

The trip to Alaska for Matos is a long one. One of the anomalies of the age is that it is easier and faster to often leave the Earth completely about a semi-ballistic shuttle, reaching the lower edge of space and using the rotation of the Earth to reach the destination faster. The flight from LAA (Los Angeles Acroplex) to New NYC heads not east over the Rockies, but instead heads out west, over the Pacific ocean into a low orbit of the planet to reenter above Newfoundland and land at the aerodrome. North-South travel lacks this special arrangement. Matos' shuttle left Nuvo Sao Paulo and landed later in Brasilia before heading to the main aerodrome in North America, Atlanta, CSS.

From there, Matos flew on another low velocity shuttle to MegaChicago and then the dull ride on the Chigaco-Portland bullet train.

It seemed like ages later, after sitting in cramped seats with little room for physical exertion, and the endless inspection of his papers, his hardware registrations, he was ready to be out of transport craft. The last leg of the journey was an electric rotorcraft that ferried him to Anchorage. It had been expensive, but the payout would cover the cost of the trip, as well as supporting the dojo back home.

He stepped out of the rotorcraft into the harsh light of Alaska, the gleaming snow and the mirror like water. It was nothing like home, it was cold, the air was crisp and had a sharp bite to it. There was no familiar musk of the favelas, or churascarias, it was like the air was dead, cold and dead.

João pulled the collar of his robe-like thermfiber jacket up to his neck. It was uncommon for temperatures in Novo São Paulo to drop below 10°C in the dead of July winter, and he'd seen snow only two other times in his life. He was glad for his mechanical arms, with their lack of temperature sensitivity, else he'd have them up to his face to warm with his breath.

The contact had given him an address, and he followed it to the quaint hotel with the odd name of "Iditarod". He shook the snow from his boots as he entered, glad for the warmth but not bothering to remove his coat. The accommodations did not seem particularly mean to his eye - better than he'd hoped, actually. The barman gave him barely a glance when he asked where Johnson's party was. He thumbed over to an odd bunch: an azure beast, a mechanical man, a few others of less foreign appearance. Matos sniffed - this would be an odd job indeed.

João strided over to the table, resting a hand on Kumorigachi with his sidearms on the opposite hip. He gave a short bow, not so deep as to appear servile. "João Matos," he announced, then stood silently and awaited a response.

A tall broad shouldered man with a refinancier's smile turned to face him, "Our most excellent urban samurai has arrived and not a moment too soon," he says. "We were discussing why we needed to hurry and what out objectives on the mission are. A quick introduction, Brian Bolles urban hacker and hardware specialist," he gestured to the human at the table. "The hexapod is Muldoon, our seibertronian hunter/tracker guide and local area expert. His humor is dry but good. The large blue fellow is Blue, a mercenary like yourself but of a somewhat different application of force."

Now that our firepower specialist has arrived, I think that we should depart directly.

Muldoon surveys the man, making a quick measurement of his height at width.

"I would suggest we delay, only in part. Typically on hunting excursions to high risk biomes such as this I provide more preparation and information. Additionally, we had discussed acquiring a large boat that we could employ exclusively. There are some items that I believe the pack would require, additionally I would like to make quick survey of the hunting area." He cranes his long retractable neck towards the handsome host of the party. "Sir, if you have not made such an assessment I suggest that I, and perhaps and another or two travel ahead immediately to scout the ground. The other stay a few hours behind us to acquire the new boat and the gear which I can order immediately. We in the forward party shall not engage our query. "

Muldoon surveyed the samurai - Blue stood and greeted him with an outstretched hand."Tel'issare - or 'Blue', for obvious reasons" Blue's eyes sank bashfully, then looked again at the samurai. He was an impressive figure, certainly, and from the way he stood, he seemed to be... proper. A rare thing that was."Pleased to make your acquaintance."Blue's slender hand vanished inside the massive metal fist.

"Please sit with us" Blue slid over, making room for João.

To Muldoon, Blue nodded: "I'm OK with doing some scouting with you - if anyone else wants to go, I'm willing to pass."

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

João gave a short nod, keeping on brief contact with the transhuman's hand. "Thank you, I'm more comfortable standing," he answered flatly. He looked about at the others. He saw transhumans rarely - the fancy ones like this usually came from wealth. Only abandoned clones or discarded sex slaves ended up in the favela. The thought that they didn't quite sit well with him felt curious, given his own augmentations.

But it was no good to make divisions so early. "I have had a long ride," he added. "Feels good to stretch the legs."

He took a biomonitor from Muldoon's bag and tucked it under his shirt onto his chest. The seibertronian didn't bother him - had more in common with him, really.

Matos was pleased on catching up with the mission intel. He'd raided arcos before - helping Tsurogi raid corporate military bases in the South Pacific - and it was no bush league stuff. The job would be a welcome challenge. "We leave when best suited, yes? A storm looks ready to break. But we should not too much delay."

"'Bout time you showed up," Brian said to Matos, with a slight sneer at his augmentations. "So. Order of Operations is gear, boat, scout, raid? Or did I miss something? Or maybe Matos, Jacobim, and I can acquire a boat while you two go scouting in Muldoon's craft. You did say it had room for two, right?"

"Agreed, somebody with knowledge of the prey will accompany me to reconnoiter the landing area and the ground. We will leave immediatley. My craft can safely hold four individuals. The rest of the group will gather the gear, I have already sent an order for the survival gear to a local broker, you may pick it up at a vendor's hut located 777A Ted Stevens Way, I can forward the receipt and conformation data to somebodies comlink... any other gear leaves me at a loss."

Muldoon hops down from the stool, his carbon fiber arms clacking crab like on the foe-wood floor and looks up at Blue. "You said you'd like to participating in the scouting?"

He turns to Brian, "Will you set up a secure channel between my commlink and your commlink, thus I can communicate my findings to you with out spooking the prey."

Brian ignored the mutant Matos (nice alliteration there, Brian, thought Brian as a side-thought. Now maybe something like that for the neo-ethnic?) and concentrated on the Seibertronian.

"Sure, I could whip together something secure. Hmmm... Maybe reflect the signal 'round the world? Could send it through the Electric Chapel... Gotta use a good encryption key. And end it with the nice moans of a pair of strippers- I am a courteous and generous person..." Said Brian, his thoughts turning to the technical. "I'll probably need to borrow your commlink, though, so I can work my magic. After all, we are waiting till after this storm breaks, right? So it'd make sense to wait to go until the morning. More light for the scouts, and shops ain't open for those of us buying gear at night. Oh, and, I could steal a boat. I'd prefer either Matos or Blue to accompany me if things go sour and turn violent. Probably won't happen, but I can't guerantee the owner of the boat isn't on board with no prelim recon. Anyways, the pros of stealing is the lack of money involved, the cons would be if the previous owner notices it if we dawdle in harbor, and we probably wouldn't be able to return directly to anchorage. I'm all for stealing it, and if we do, my vote is for something practical, but with style. And speed. Speed is a must."

"It's all set, then?" Blue rose."Muldoon, you say I won't freeze in what I'm currently wearing? Wouldn't want anyone to have to call me Frostmourne.The guys can get the heavy duty arctic stuff - you have what size I'm wearing in the dossier, João. Don't use it against me!"Blue laughed, then waved to Muldoon:"Let's roll, we've sat long enough",then headed towards the door.

***

Muldoon's craft was just big enough, but most importantly stable, as it headed across the bay's chill waters.Despite all chances to the contrary, Blue actually liked the white and blue and grey, the chill and the cold spray. 'Am I a masochist? No, a revolutionary! That's actually the same....' the stream of consciousness went on.

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"